THE tradition during Ramadan is to take part in communal recitation of the Quran, completing it (qatam) at lailatul qadar, the night of power, believed to be one of the odd nights of the last 10 days of the month, the 27th being most favoured.

This Ramadan, I have a more modest goal. I strive to search for and live the full meaning of the very short Al-Fatihah, the Quran’s opening surah.

With only seven easily memorised ayats (verses), Al-Fatihah is recited in all prayers.

My choice of this versus attempting the entire Quran was a tacit acknowledgment of my own limitations, as well as in deference to the wisdom of putting quality over quantity.

A Universiti Pendidikan Sultan Idris study showed that more than 90% of Muslim students do not understand surah Al-Fatihah despite the heavy emphasis on Islam in their curriculum.

Surah Al-Fatihah is divine revelation, a matter of faith. There is little merit to or benefit gained from debating that. You do not have to be fluent in Arabic to sense its inner rhythm and exquisite beauty.

You do not have to be a Muslim to appreciate its aural splendour and absorb its transcendent wisdom.

Just as a native English-speaker needs help to appreciate Shakespeare, so too do Muslims with the Quran.

Understanding a text blends its capacity to stimulate ideas and imagination together with what the reader brings to it, as per Elizabeth Rosenblatt.

We should not be surprised that the Quran would be read and understood differently by a Bedouin desert dweller of the 7th century versus the Muslim diaspora in 21st century western Europe.

The Quran is “for all mankind till the end of time”. As such, it must be contemporary and cannot be detached from current knowledge or accepted wisdom.

The late Tunisian philosopher Mohammad Talbi brought his insights on French Literature to reading the Quran, giving us yet another dimension.

The pesantren-tutored and Harvard-educated Ulil Abdalla noted that Eastern reading of the Quran is ritualistic and formulaic; Western, analytical and practical.

Much of religious learning in the Islamic world is consumed with recitations but little actions, per Talbi’s “illness of speech”.

He would rather have us “not parroting what had been discovered… rather searching for what constitutes the essence…” of Islam.

Malaysians have a laconic acronym echoing Talbi’s lament: Nato – No action; talk (or recite) only!

Jaundiced orientalists dismissed the seeming literary jumble of the Quran as incoherent, the astronomically challenged looking into the starlit night sky and seeing only blinking lights.

To me, Al-Fatihah is less recitation, more comprehension; less gourmet recipe, more profound aphorisms; less night stars, more my northern star.

Like the rest of the Quran, Al-Fatihah guides me for this world. As for the hereafter, Allah hu alam (Only He knows)!

Current discourses on Islam are long and loud on sound but alas dim and short on enlightenment, with the obsession on the hereafter.

The intellectual traffic is also all one way. Hours would be spent glorifying the various names of the surah, as if putting different labels explains things.

Al-Fatihah is already beautiful and exquisite; heaping more superlatives adds little. As per Ayu Utami in his novel Saman: “Apakah keindahan itu perlu dinamai? (Must a thing of beauty always have a name?)”

One popular mufti, Dr Maza (he goes by his acronym) promiscuously inserts long incomprehensible Arabic at the slightest provocation; more to impress, less to address his audience.

Another triviality is to engage in endless controversies, as whether the surah has six or seven ayats, revealed in Mecca or Medina, or should it be recited in silence during congregational prayers.

Such puerile disputes are not without their consequences. The earliest and most momentous was whether the Quran was created or eternal.

Heed its message instead; that should be the principal pursuit.

The American Nouman Ali Khan on a visit to Malaysia spent more than three hours expounding Surah Al-Fatihah, mesmerising his audience with his exquisite tajweed (recitations) and waxing lyrical on its beauty.

At the end of his marathon session, he claimed with unconcealed audacity that he could go on for many more hours.

He must have thought himself very effective as there were no questions following his long monologue.

Such preachers do not respect their audience’s time. They also insult their listeners’ intelligence with frequent infantile rhetorical questions.

Theirs is, to quote Khaled El Fadl, more authoritarian than authoritative.

Those ancient scholars have made their prodigious contributions and we owe them a huge debt of gratitude.

However, their world was very different from ours, and so too were their challenges. Much of contemporary Islamic discourses are as irrelevant as lectures on mental health where the speakers would expound endlessly on Freud and Jung but silent on anti-depressants and neurotransmitters.

In embellishing the supposed miraculous powers of Al-Fatihah, our ulama could be imparting a misguided message.

When you are sick, you should seek expert medical care, or in a pandemic as with the current Covid-19, get vaccinated and practice social distancing.

Only then recite Surah Ash Shifa. Malaysians do not need to be reminded that the first and largest outbreak of Covid-19 followed a Tabligh gathering in February 2020.

There are exceptions to this sorry state of religious discourse and, thanks to social media, they are getting wider exposure.

One is Garasi TV, the brainchild of award-winning journalist, Zainal Rashid Ahmad. Its recent (March 30, 2022) programme – Puasa Atau Dusta (Fast or Farce, https://youtu.be/iOAKhoQCGhI) – was refreshing, insightful, and free of gratuitous Arabic incantations.

I laud his and his team’s bravery but even there they never venture into contemporary topics like the errant behaviours and corruption of sultans and political leaders.

Al-Fatihah is Umm Al Quran (Mother of the Quran). In contemporary parlance and practice, that would be the “book blurb”.

Apart from telling potential readers something about the book, it also serves as a “hook” to grab would-be readers.

My purpose here is more to explore Al-Fatihah so it can continue to guide me, less to quote ancient tomes.

To paraphrase Robert Frost: I begin my journey with much delight and hope to end with some wisdom. – April 4, 2022.

* M. Bakri Musa reads The Malaysian Insight.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.